


Lies and Omissions

by mannybothans



Series: Don't Tell Sam [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Cares, Drama, Emotional Constipation, F/M, Family Dynamics, Fingering, Non-Angel Gabriel, Non-Hunter Winchesters (Supernatural), PWP, Pet Names, Smut, Temptation, Unprotected Sex, au supernatural, because he's a teddy bear, but an emotionally constipated one, dom!Dean, drinking to excess, incest-adjacent relationships, psuedo-incest, sub!Reader, wrap it up tho folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 09:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19104541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mannybothans/pseuds/mannybothans
Summary: part fiiiiiiiive of Don't Tell Sam!You & Dean can't stay away from each other, so how long will it take before Sam discovers you're going behind his back? Again.





	Lies and Omissions

**Author's Note:**

> HIGHLY recommend reading the first four parts to get a grasp on the characters/what little story line there is

Dean made himself scarce that night, as did Sam. You were left alone in the house with no explanation for the first time since you moved in. The loneliness ate you up inside, so you turned to your friends and planned a night out. After confirming time and location to meet, you plucked your favorite sun dress from the small closet in your room and made an effort to do your hair and make-up, even though it was sultry and hot outside. Your ride arrived and, without bothering to let your brothers know where you were going or how late you’d be out, you locked up the house behind you and tried to forget.

“Well, we thought you might have died!” Maria exclaimed after the third round of shots. “Little miss Too Busy! Probably pre-occupied with her hot ass roommates.”

The comment hit you in the heart like a steel-tipped arrow and you did everything you could to not wince outwardly. Instead, you laughed along with the group. “Right, I’ve been living with them for years, now, and suddenly they see me as something other than a little sister,” you retorted sarcastically, snorting.

“Well, what if they did?” Erin piped up, a devilish grin on her face. “Would you???”

“What? Fuck ‘em?” You replied, rolling your eyes, but your cheeks already started to heat up as you tried to hide the truth from your friends. The group giggled and you shook your head, “Nah. Not my taste.”

“Well, they’re certainly mine! Sign me up for a spit-roast!” Maria exclaimed, eliciting hoots and laughter from everyone else, including you.

“I’ll let them know,” you drawled, taking a long gulp of beer to drown your feelings. Another round of shots arrived and you all looked around, wondering who ordered them. After a moment, someone familiar caught your eye and you grinned, nodding at him in thanks. Gabe gave you a small nod back, his lips twisting into a smirk. You and your friends took the shots and you immediately got up to go over to Gabe, whose gaze was fixed on the television above the bar. “Hey, stranger,” you smiled, almost slurring.

“Hey yourself, cutie,” he replied, letting his eyes dance down your figure appreciatively.

“Thanks for the round.” You licked your lips, weighing the morality of using Gabe to get back at Dean and Sam for ignoring you.

“Anytime, dollface,” he smiled and you chucked caution to the wind as you leaned in and kissed him. He returned your kiss happily, though he was a bit surprised at the move.

“Do I seem preoccupied, now?” You murmured with a grin before heading back to your friends. Gabe just stood there, blinking and processing while watching your hips sway enticingly. He licked his lips and dug into his pocket for a sucker; the night just got interesting.

**

Gabe buried his face into your neck, licking and biting his way from jaw to shoulder. You groaned, dizzy with drink and just wanting more – more Dean. Gabe was a great kisser and his hands were strong, but he didn’t talk to you like Dean did. He didn’t call you filthy names like Dean did. He didn’t make you blush or quiver like Dean did. You put your hands on his shoulders and pushed back, putting space between your bodies in the backseat of Gabe’s car. You were straddling his lap, the sun dress hiked up around your hips, displaying your bare sex to him. Your panties were somewhere on the floorboards.

“Fuck, kitten,” he groaned. “Wanna touch you.”

“Yeah?” You panted, worked up and drunk. “Wanna make me come?”

“Shit, yeah,” he nodded slowly, his thumb barely brushing against your folds.

“Then do it,” you ground out, covering his hand with yours. Gabe didn’t need any more direction; he plunged his index and middle fingers into your core and you arched, having to bend your neck due to the low ceiling of the car. He pumped them eagerly, watching your face as he coaxed you to bliss. After a minute, he couldn’t keep his mouth off of you and leaned forward, pressing hot needy kisses to your neck and jaw. You moaned encouragingly but were too scared to say anything, lest Dean’s name drop from your lips.

“So pretty, sweetheart,” Gabe groaned. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

His words echoed Sam’s and you squeezed your eyes shut as memories of Sam eating you out flooded your mind. You remembered just how sexy Dean looked, watching his brother make you come while he jerked off and you groaned in frustration. Gabe just wasn’t the same.

You pushed yourself off his lap and climbed out of his car, desperate for air. The uncertainty and potential of losing Dean was like a punch to the gut and no matter the skill, Gabe wasn’t him.

“I have to go home,” you said, bracing against the car to steady yourself. “Take me home.”

“Kitten, what’s wrong?” Gabe asked, his voice gentle and coaxing. “Get back in here, let me take care of you.”

“Take me home or I’m walking,” you said, on the verge of tears; you couldn’t text Dean – not like this – because you couldn’t bear for him to reject you again. Even worse, if he did decide to come to your rescue, you couldn’t stand the thought of receiving his pity.

“Yeah, sure, alright, just, here,” Gabe climbed out the same side and walked around you, opening the front passenger door. “Get on in, sweetheart.” You climbed back into the car and he gently closed the door as tears started rolling down your face. All you could think of was Dean slamming his door in your face earlier and it broke you. Gabe got in the driver’s seat and glanced at you before he started the car. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Too much to drink,” you mumbled, gazing down into your lap.

Gabe put the car in gear and shut the radio off as he drove towards your house. _Dean’s house_. You didn’t say a word as he pulled up to the curb, you just let yourself out before he could get out of the car. You were too drunk to remember you’d left your underwear in his backseat, but thankfully you had managed to get your purse with your keys, phone, and wallet. Gabriel, concerned about the sudden mood swing, waited patiently as you fumbled with the keys, trying to find the right one to unlock the door.

It took longer than it should have and he was suddenly glad you’d stopped anything from happening – you were way too drunk to consent. Just as Gabriel was going to get out of the car and help you get inside, the door swung open and Dean Winchester stood there with a frown on his face. He noticed Gabe sitting in the car, his gaze turned dark, and Gabe gave a little wave and drove off.

Dean fixed his attention on you, sniffling and shoving past him into the house. “Hey, you alright?” His dark gaze turned soft, concerned, when he realized you were crying. “Did you go out with that douche again?”

“No,” you mumbled, trailing your hand along the wall as you shuffled into the kitchen. “He was just there.”

“Where were you? Sam and I were worried sick. We texted you like fifteen times.”

“I know,” you grunted, filling a cup with water. Truth was, after the first five texts, you’d turned them on silent. You just couldn’t handle them being “worried” about you.

Dean just huffed and folded his arms across his chest. You were a mess and he had a gut feeling that he was the reason why. He’d shut you out earlier, denied you, rejected you. He put the pieces together easily enough and shifted his weight, dragging a hand down his chin. “Alright, well, I’m glad you got home safe.”

His words seemed so empty, so full of garbage, that your self-pity instantly changed to anger. You wouldn’t be drunk – or sad – if it weren’t for Dean. “This is all your fault!” You accused loudly, forgetting about your water.

Dean blinked, taken aback by your sudden outburst. He knew why he felt guilty, but he needed to know why you blamed him, too. “And how’s that, sweetheart?”

“You don’t get to call me that,” you slurred, storming up to him to jab a finger into his solid chest.

“Hey. Hey! That’s enough,” Dean growled, grasping your wrist so you couldn’t poke him anymore. The tears began to fall again and you couldn’t be bothered to stop them. Outright sobbing, you lifted your other fist and pounded weakly on his pec. After another moment, Dean grabbed that wrist, too, and you fell into him. His arms wound around you protectively, pulling you to his chest where you continued to cry. He tried to soothe you but all he wanted was to kiss your tears away and show you he still cared.

When your sobs finally subsided into controlled breaths, you pulled away from him and wiped your face. “You can’t just shut me out. Not after what we’ve done,” you mumbled hoarsely while refusing to meet his gaze. You were afraid of what you’d find there.

Dean took a steadying breath and nodded. “I know, princess, I’m sorry. But Sam said,”

“I don’t give a fuck what Sam said!” You shouted. “Let him have his demons!”

Dean frowned at that but he knew you were right. Fuck what Sam said. He wasn’t here, holding you tight while you cried. He’d never understand that there was more than hormones between the two of you. Dean gently grasped your chin and lifted it, pressing his mouth to yours. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled between kisses. You eagerly kissed him back, licking into his mouth when he parted his lips. Dean let you in and smoothed your hair before his hands started roaming your body – as if he needed to memorize your curves.

The urge to confess hit you like a brick wall and you pulled back. “Dean, I,”

“What’s going on in here?” Sam’s voice interrupted your declaration and Dean jumped back from you as if he’d been burned.

“Nothing,” Dean quickly lied, not meeting your eyes. “Y/n had a bad night.”

You swallowed your heart and ran out of the kitchen to your room, barely hearing Sam as he reminded Dean that Amelia was moving in that weekend. _Oh, so that’s why. He’s back with his ex. Difficult Amelia. Heart-breaking Amelia._ You slammed your door shut and then yanked it open again to scream down the stairs. “I hope you’re both _miserable_ together, Sam!” Then you slammed your door shut again. The brothers’ voices raised but you couldn’t hear what they were saying over the pounding of your heart in your ears. Moments later, you heard the front door slam, but you had no idea which brother it was. You collapsed onto your bed and sobbed yourself to sleep. You’d been _so close_ to telling Dean you loved him. And yet he still pushed you away – all for Sam’s happiness. It wasn’t surprising – Sam had always come first and would always come first.

Sleep dragged you under; your last conscious thought was that you needed to find a new place to live.

When you woke the next day, it was almost noon. The house was quiet and you groaned at the pounding in your head, behind your eyes. Memories of the night before flooded your mind and you curled up into a ball, not wanting to face the world if it meant you couldn’t have Dean.

After several minutes of trying to quiet the breaking of your heart, you finally grabbed your phone and checked your messages. Some were from your friends, wondering where you’d gone off to, one was from Gabriel, hoping you felt better, and there were several from Dean. Not messages to both you and Sam, but just you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you opened them.

DW: _hey, sweetheart, I’m so sorry about tonight_  
_I know I fucked up_  
 _I really think we should talk, just the two of us_  
 _I left aspirin and water on your nightstand for you – see you tomorrow, princess_

Curious, you glanced at your nightstand and sure enough, there was a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water that had mysteriously appeared overnight. Dean’s messages didn’t sit well with you, but they weren’t the worst thing you were expecting. Still, you tried not to get your hopes up as you downed a couple pills and drank almost the entire glass at once.

Sometime later, still in bed in the sundress from the night before – sans panties – you heard a soft knock on your door. Your eyes, tired and red, shifted to the thin wooden barrier but you didn’t answer. Another soft knock came and you sat up; before you could tell whoever it was to go away, Dean nudged the door open just a crack.

“You awake?” He noted that you were with a little nod and shifted. “Can I come in?”

“Sure thing, Santa,” you drawled, glancing at the water glass. Your head was still throbbing but from drink or crying, you weren’t sure.

Dean’s lips twitched at the joke as he stepped into your room but came no closer than just inside your doorway. “You got the aspirin,” he observed. You nodded, forcing yourself to look anywhere but at him. You fixed your gaze on the bed covers, tracing the stitching with a restless index finger. Dean cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable that you wouldn’t look at him. “Listen, Y/n, I,”

“I’ll find a new place to live. I just… I’ll need a month. Maybe three weeks.”

Your news startled him and his brow furrowed as he tried to process it. “You don’t, that’s not why I,”

You interrupted him again with a big, defeated sigh. “I know, but Sam’s happiness is your priority. So.”

“So, what?” Dean’s voice got a little angrier, causing you to glance up at him. “He can be perfectly happy minding his own fucking business.”

You snorted at that and rolled your eyes for good measure. “Like that’ll ever happen,” you muttered. Sam might try to mind his own business, but he was far too observant to not notice things. Dean grunted in his way of agreeing without actually saying you were right. “I don’t want to come between you two,” you stated firmly after a long stretch of quiet. “You’re family.”

“Dammit, so are you, sweetheart,” Dean argued, shifting like he was going to come towards you but he didn’t budge. Until you lifted your eyes and stared at him blankly, waiting to see how he was going to explain himself without highlighting the sibling-like relationship that had been twisted. His mouth opened like he was going to say more, but he covered his mouth and dragged his hand down his chin in the exasperated way he did when he couldn’t quite figure something out.

“Dean, listen, I,” you swallowed, hoping you could finally say it in a different context. “I, I just want you to be happy,” you shrugged, trailing off, unable to say those three words.

Dean dragged his bottom lip between his teeth and exhaled slowly and heavily. He stared at your floor for a long moment before he glanced over his shoulder and stepped further into your room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“What are you doing?” You asked, almost panicking as your heart suddenly filled with hope.

“What I should’ve done last night,” Dean murmured, climbing onto your bed and reaching for you. You couldn’t resist him, never would be able to again, and were all too ready to forgive him for letting Sam come first when it was clear Sam was only putting himself first. He took your hand and you pulled your legs under you, kicking off the bed covers as you crawled to meet him in the middle. Everything felt like slo-motion until Dean’s thighs were between yours as you knelt above his lap.

When his lips caught yours, you couldn’t help but whine with need even as his fingers threaded into your hair. He gently tugged and tilted your head as he kissed you and you were putty in his hands. The kiss deepened naturally, the two of you eager to taste the other and connect on a more intimate level. It seemed like half an hour before Dean slowly pulled away, his green eyes dark with lust and glassy with what might have been sadness. You thought he looked regretful at letting you fall back into him and so you put a hand on his chest and gently pushed back.

“Dean, we shouldn’t,”

“Shut up, sweetheart,” he gritted out. “I know you want this,” he grabbed your hips and pulled you back down onto his lap without an argument from you. His hardened length pressed into your thigh and you moaned softly, letting your eyes fall closed. “Good girl,” he whispered, guiding your hips to grind against him. He watched your face twist with need, panting lightly as he used every ounce of his willpower to not flip you onto your back and fuck you senseless. “You want this cock so bad, baby girl,” he muttered, his voice edging into that dark, low tone that drove you wild. “I know you do.”

“I do, Dean, god, I want it,” you whined, pressing your forehead to his while you kept your eyes shut.

“You do this to me, sis,” he almost growled. “I know you’re not wearing panties.” Dean’s voice became hoarse with his admission and sure enough, his hand slipped under your dress and met bare hip. “Just the _thought_ of some douche touching you, touching your sweet cunt, trying to get you off,” he broke off in an actual growl and your eyes flew open. Dean’s face was the picture of jealousy – dark, hooded eyes, pink-tinted cheeks, a frown tugging at his lips and his brow furrowed. “Was it good? Did he make you come like I do?”

A chill went down your spine and your head spun but you finally regained enough of your senses to shake your head. “No, Dean, he didn’t. He couldn’t. I didn’t want him.”

“No? Did he have his fingers here?” Dean pressed his palm against your sex. “Or maybe his tongue?”

You shook your head again. “His fingers,” you gasped when Dean sank two into your wet hole.

“Like this, sis? He touched you like this?”

You nodded this time, whimpering as he slowly pushed and pulled his digits. “Fuck, Dean, please.”

“Watched you sleep, sweetheart. Was so hard not to wake you up and give you this thick cock, seeing your pretty cunt all bare under your dress,” he admitted and you grasped his shoulders, clinging to him as he edged you toward bliss. “Would’ve fucking wrecked you, reminded you who you belong to.”

“You, Dean,” you whispered, tightening your grasp on his shoulders as he twisted his wrist and pushed his fingers against your g-spot.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he purred, watching you get closer and closer to coming undone. “Fuck. So hot.”

“Please, Dean,” you begged quietly, peppering his entire face with kisses while you dropped your hands and began unbuttoning his jeans. “God, I need you.”

“I know, princess,” he replied with an almost cocky smirk on his face. He pulled his fingers out of you and gently lifted you up so he could push his jeans and boxers off. His shirt came off, next, and he laid back on your bed, his head toward the footboard. You straddled him again and went to pull your dress off when he stopped you. Meeting his gaze, you licked your lips and nodded in understanding, then reached under the short skirt and grasped his cock, positioning it at your entrance. Slowly, you sank down onto him, taking him in inch by sweet, torturous inch. Dean clenched his jaw and groaned at the sensation of filling you.

You started riding him, slowly, letting yourself get used to him. Dean licked his lips and slipped a hand under your skirt to find your clit. You leaned back, giving him better access, and he gave you a lop-sided grin when you gasped at his touch. It was too much to take in, the way the corner of his eyes crinkled, how his lips turned up at the very corners, the deep green of his eyes and the freckles on his face – so you shut your eyes. No other sounds filled your room aside from the two of you breathing and the wet sound of his cock sliding into you again and again.

 _Fuck, I love you. God, I love you. I love you, I loveyou,IloveyouIloveyou_ , your brain chanted, wishing you could just say it out loud. But you swallowed the urge and leaned forward, crashing your mouth to his in a desperate kiss. Dean moaned quietly into your mouth and if you were a weaker woman, you might have come right then and there. Instead, you caught his bottom lip between your teeth and gently tugged, moving your hips at a quicker pace.

Dean’s eyes rolled back into his head until you let go of his lip and then his fingers moved faster against your clit. He wanted nothing more than for you to come undone on top of him. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to stave off your orgasm for a little longer, but that familiar clench in your abdomen was already starting to tighten.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty when you come for me,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. “Love watchin’ you. Feelin’ how wet you get for me. Fuck, baby girl.”

“Hnnh, Dean,” you gritted out, trying desperately to hold back your orgasm, to draw it out. He let out a breathy little sound, not quite a grunt and not quite a moan, and it gave you goose bumps. You wanted his hands in your hair, spanking your ass, choking you breathless. But he was letting you have full control over him, today. Or so you thought. “So close,” you whined, panting and impaling yourself on his dick again and again. “Don’t stop,” you added, teetering on the edge.

Then Dean pulled his hand away and your eyes flew open, unable to comprehend what he’d just done to you. You’d been _right there_ and you whimpered, moving your own hand between your legs to resume the friction where you needed it most. But Dean was faster; he caught your wrists and held them against his chest, forcing you to fall forward. With a conniving smirk, he planted his feet and bucked into you – hard – without warning. One of his hands held your wrists and the other grasped your dress, hiking it up your back and out of his way. A cry fell from your lips at the sudden roughness and Dean pounded up into you, leaving you able to only gasp out syllables and no words. He watched your face, watched your eyes roll back into your head, watched your mouth fall open, and felt you go lax in his grasp. He couldn’t believe how much you liked being dominated, fucked like a little rag doll, and he doubled his efforts.

Your bed springs began to creak and sing under his feet and the sound of his hips slapping into your thighs echoed in your small bedroom. All you could do was let him take you for the ride. Dean grunted and slammed up into you, stilling his hips as he caught his breath. He relinquished his grip on your wrists and sat up, wrapping his arms around your waist. You opened your eyes as his lips trailed down your neck and ran your fingers through his hair, slowly rocking on his lap.

“God, you feel good,” Dean muttered, mouth on your collarbone, tongue lightly licking your skin. You rocked a little harder and he huffed a laugh because he knew exactly what you were after. “You wanna come, baby?” You nodded eagerly and he chuckled again, darkly. Without warning, he tore your dress off of you and then yanked your bra cups down to reveal your breasts to him. With his mouth latched firmly onto one nipple, he then used his core muscles to pump up into you and you leaned back a little bit, moving your hips to meet his. It was an effort and you wanted more, wanted him deeper, and tried to sink lower to make that happen.

“Wanna come for you, Dean,” you reiterated, on the verge of begging for it.

Dean moved to your other tit, gently biting your nipple and making you gasp. “Make yourself come, sweetheart,” he instructed and you nodded, immediately slipping a hand between your legs. As soon as you began rubbing yourself, you let out a whimpering moan and Dean could only think about hearing you in the shower as he jerked off. His cock throbbed inside of you and he groaned, stilling your hips so he wouldn’t come before he was ready. “Tell me what you think about when you touch yourself,” he demanded, watching your face contort with pleasure as he resumed licking and biting your nipples, one at a time.

“Fuck,” you gasped, trying to rock again only to meet his tight grip on you and resistance. “I think about you,” you admitted, blushing a little bit. “Think about how much I love y- it, love _it_ when you fuck me,” your blush deepened and you hoped he didn’t catch your slip. “How you feel inside me,” you paused when his cock throbbed again and he groaned as your walls tightened around him. He knew you were close. “I love being your little slut,” you gasped as his grip tightened on you. God, you were so _so_ close –

And then he shoved your hand away; suddenly you were on your back and Dean was above you, pounding into you mercilessly. His eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw was clenched tight and you cried out because _you were right there_ yet again. “Fucking love your pussy,” he groaned, ramming his hips into yours over and over. When he stilled, you shuddered, your entire body buzzing with need for release once more. He didn’t stop you when you worked your hand between your bodies, desperate to come. He resumed thrusting, hard, deep, but slow. He was beautiful, his eyes shut tightly, his nostrils flaring with each breath he took, his tongue barely peeking out between his teeth.

Your orgasm flooded your body, lighting up all your nerve endings from head to toe, and you convulsed under him as the shockwaves hit you. You began to wail and he covered your mouth with his, swallowing your noises. He wasn’t far behind you, but he tried to keep from coming even as your muscles fluttered around his cock. Not even close to coming down from your own climax, Dean withdrew his cock and let it spurt against your lower belly, leaving behind a warm, sticky mess. He pulled away from the kiss as his own body twitched at the much-needed release.

You had no idea, but Dean had come so close to saying he loved you – and he was a little scared of saying it, first. Of course, you knew he cared about you and loved you in some capacity, but when he was with you, he felt like he was finally at peace. With you, he didn’t think about the stress of work, whether or not Sam was happy, all his faults and mistakes, all the people he _couldn’t_ please – with you, he just _was_. And the way you looked at him, the way you let him touch you, talk to you, the way you _gave yourself_ to him made him feel more complete than he’d ever felt in his life.

So, yeah, he’d almost professed his love for you.

“Dean,” you started, swallowing thickly. “Dean, I,” you paused as his eyes locked onto yours and you weren’t sure if it was admiration, love, or just post-orgasmic bliss there in his beautifully green eyes, but you were going to leap whether you liked it or not. You could always blame it on the oxytocin later. “I love you.”

He stared back down at you, without looking away, as if waiting for the punch-line. Several seconds of silence passed between you and you swore you could hear your heart hammering in your chest. Finally, Dean leaned down and kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue right into your mouth. He took his time exploring every centimeter – above your tongue and under it as well as along your teeth. When he pulled away, you expected to find some kind of change in him, as if it were a pity kiss he felt obligated to bestow upon you for making such a confession.

“I know,” he said with a small grin and a wink.


End file.
